All That Remains

Sometimes all that remains in a landscape are the ghosts of a time long past. Glance to the right as one passes Ross and there stands a silent sentinel, out of place and lonely. The grass rustles with the whispers of those who passed through this arch and the stories of their time here.  What must have been an imposing structure full of life and learning is now reduced to a sad, yet impressive arch in a paddock in the middle of nowhere.

Shelly MacLeod


Oil on board